Walking with Glass
by Gatekat
Summary: Bayverse/WoD. Jazz/Prowl, others. A decade after defeating Megatron and settling on Earth, a run of the mill meeting between Optimus Prime and a diplomat begins to open Autobot optics to the full complexities of the world they have adopted.
1. First Contact

_Fandom_: Transformers Bayverse/World of Darkness  
_Pairing_: Jazz/Prowl, Sunstreaker/Sideswipe, Ratchet/Ironhide  
_Rating_: PG  
_Codes_: None  
_Summary_: Bayverse. A decade after defeating Megatron and settling on Earth, a run of the mill meeting between Optimus Prime and a diplomat begins to open Autobot optics to the full complexities of the world they have adopted.

_Notes_: Jazz survived.

"text" normal, audible to every speech  
::text:: radio communication. May or may not be scrambled and can be selectively delivered, though not that is not typical. It can be intercepted.  
~text~ bond/touch communication. Only available to the one receiving it.

Units of time:  
solar cycle. . . a local day  
lunar cycle. . . local month  
stellar cycle .. a local year  
nanoklik. . . . .1 second  
klik. . . . . . . . .1.2 minutes  
breem. . . . . . 8.3 minutes  
joor. . . . . . . . 1 hour  
orn. . . . . . . . .a day on Cybertron (31 joor)  
decaorn. . . . . a 'week' on Cybertron (8 orn)  
metacycle. . . .a 'month' on Cybertron (1600 orn, 200 decaorn, 5.66 Terran years)  
vorn. . . . . . . .a 'year' on Cybertron (16 metacycle, 128 decaorn, 25600 orn, 90.53 Terran years)

_Disclaimer_: All things Transformers belong to Hasbro. World of Darkness 1st edition elements (this kind of werewolf/vampires/etc, Glass Walkers, the Umbra, use of spirits, etc) belong to White Wolf http:/www. white-wolf. com The mutilated mashing of the above elements and the actual non-TF characters present is my fault.

* * *

**Walking with Glass**

* * *

Prowl's even voice was enough to lull almost anyone into recharge, but Optimus Prime had far too much experience with it, and respect for it's owner, to not pay full attention. Even if the subject was as dull as the events of the week Prime was obliged to attend.

"Prowl," he suddenly interrupted his third in command. "I am unfamiliar with that agency."

"The Howle Island Institute is listed a privately funded think-tank. They are being unusual secretive, however I do not find it surprising given the nature of the research I have been able to link to them," Prowl explained easily. "Very little seems to be less black, as the humans say, than we are. Their paperwork is in order however and Jazz could find no reason not to allow them to speak with us."

"Who else will be attending that meeting?" Prime asked, leaning forward slightly in interest. It was _different_ at least.

"Jazz, myself and Ratchet," he answered smoothly. "They requested a meeting with the unit leader, head of Intel and CMO."

"And you decided anyone who's first meeting included asking for the three of us needed my third in command as well," Prime's mouth plates quirked into an amused smile. "Prudent."

"I believe so, Prime," he inclined his head slightly before continuing with the rest of the events of the week.

* * *

Major Lennox waited by the road that led to the human's-only parking lot, otherwise known as 'visitor parking', for the 2016 gunmetal grey Ford Mustang. The main gate had radioed it was headed his way with the dignitary of the day to escort to conference room two. That was the one that had been specialized for meetings with humans in person.

He tried not to shift as he waited. He hated envoy-sitting duty. Though he had to admit that the reaction of first-time visitors when they passed the holographic shield on the base and saw Autobot City for what it was did tend to be priceless.

From the screech of tires this one was going to be no different.

He grinned and casually walked up to the driver's door and tapped on the lightly shaded window. The dark-haired woman inside nearly jumped out of her skin, but quickly composed herself.

She was doing better than most, he noted with mild approval as the window went down. It gave him his first really good look at his assignment for the day, and he had to appreciate that she'd at least be more pleasant to look, and likely listen to, at than most. Late thirties, reasonably attractive in a professional diplomat kind of way, dark hair done up in a bun, light skin, hazel eyes and something in her bearing and body he couldn't name but understood instinctively; well-ingrained combat training.

Now that was unusual.

"Good afternoon Ma'am," he smiled a greeting to her. "I'm Major Lennox. If you would please unlock the passenger door, I'll guide you to your parking space and then the conference room."

"I'm Thera Jameson from the Howle Island Institute," she nodded faintly, most of her attention on the Cybertronian facility ahead of them, and reached to the inside of her door before the audible click of the locking mechanism sounded. He walked around the front of the two-year-old vehicle and easily slipped into the passenger seat. He took in an interior that looked as technologically advanced as some Autobot's native forms.

So she was definitely a technophile. That'd help a _lot_ with the meeting she was about to have.

"Go forward and take the second left, where the other cars are parked," he instructed. Only belatedly he realized he _should_ have reacted in surprise when the car began to move but she wasn't driving. "Umm, there's VIP parking nearest the building."

She broke her attention away from the sprawling city-like tower to give him a small reassuring smile. "I've done a lot of after-market upgrades to him. Tech is something of a fascination for me."

"Is that why you were chosen?" he asked, keeping a careful eye on how the car drove as it drove into VIP parking, found an empty spot and pulled in flawlessly.

"That and I am their top-ranked diplomat and trained extensively for first contact," she said with absolutely no conceit as the car's doors unlocked and opened for them and she slipped out with the kind of controlled grace that Prowl tended to display. "This is one meeting that both sides wish to go well."

Lennox nodded as they got out. He guided her to the open-top army green electric vehicles used for humans to transverse the large base. While much less luxurious than anyone's personal vehicle, they did the job and were easily able to share the hallways with the resident Cybertronians without being tripped over, taking up too much walkspace or left far behind. A part of him felt they were for the lazy, while another reminded him that they turned an hour-plus fast walk into a ten-minute or less drive.

"Do you spend much time with any of them?" Thera asked politely, though there was no doubting that she really did want to know what he did of those she was about to meet.

"More than with my own family some months, ma'am," he acknowledged the common truth of a soldier, even in a completely uncommon situation.

Her gaze going everywhere as she took in every bit of information she could, she spared one for him as they passed into the interior of the complex.

"The facility is called Autobot City, or Metroplex, depending on which translation you go with, ma'am," he offered unprompted. "I still don't understand more than a handful of non-battlefield words in Cybertronian and most of their names, but I've learned enough to know that direct translations with names are iffy at best. Most of them just pick something that feel is a fitting word of phrase and use that."

"How long have you been assigned this unit, Major?" Thera was decidedly interested now, though her eyes followed every Autobot that cross their path, soaking in every detail she could.

"Since the beginning, almost eleven years now, ma'am," he told her. "A lot's changed."

"I can imagine," she smiled faintly, taking on an almost Jazz-like look of knowing the level of understatement and amusement at the fact. "What will you tell me of their leader, Intel Chief and CMO?"

Lennox gave her a curious glance.

"The information I have is ... questionable ... in my opinion," she elaborated on her desire. "I have no doubt you know far more than whoever wrote the report I had as a briefing. The most appropriate address for them in English if nothing else."

He couldn't deny the truth of that, or that her minimum request was entirely reasonable.

"They all go by English names, at least when they're talking to humans, ma'am. Their leader is Optimus Prime. His name is Optimus; Prime's a title. I don't think anyone in the Autobots outranks him; at least not anyone alive. He's the big guy with the red and blue flame paintjob. He's big on the honor thing, and on protecting life."

"Jazz is Intel, but he's really more of a social butterfly crossed with an anthropologist than anything else," Lennox chuckled. "He's the short silver one with the visor and permanent grin.

"The neon yellow mech's Ratchet. He's in charge of medical, which is somehow different from engineering/mechanical. Perpetual grouch with deadly aim and an endless supply of wrenches he uses to keep everybody else in check, but according to everybody not human, he'd the best medic Cybertron's produced in a long time.

"They're all good guys, just keep in mind that they've been at war longer than humans have existed and they're still coming down from being the front line of war for much of their lives," he summed up what he intended to give her. More than her minimum, but far from everything he knew. Just the things he knew Prime would appreciate her knowing before first meeting him.

"Thank you," she inclined her head in appreciation. "The markings on the walls and on the doors, it is their written language?"

Lennox took a moment to glance at the nearest one, even though he knew full well what she was talking about.

"Yes, ma'am," he nodded. "I can't make heads or tails of it, but I don't try much. All I know for sure is that it's not just a simple alphabet."

"It's glyph based, Major," she said easily. "Not too different from translating Chinese to English from the look of it."

"You can tell all that from a couple door signs?" he looked at her with a new eye.

"From the thirty-eight I've passed since entering base property along with the English at human eye level," she corrected calmly. "It's not enough to translate any but the most simple ciphers, but it is enough to have a basic idea of what I'm looking at, if it was a language and not simply decoration."

"You don't miss much, do you?" Lennox gave her a sly smile before pulling into a cut out designed to hold four of the electric carts.

"It is as much a part of first-contact training as it is yours," Thera told him and slipped out of the passenger side door without waiting for him.

Smart, observant, independent, determined and strong-willed with a ready, if contained, smile. Jazz would love her.

Lennox couldn't help but smile to himself at the thought of their first break together. It was likely to be enlightening to both sides and draw more than a few groans from others.

"Hay Hound," he called out a greeting to the green scout and received a warm greeting in turn. "This way, ma'am," he motioned Thera to follow him into the conference room. He knew it was a small, relatively cozy one, but he had little doubt it look enormous to her even though there were four giant mechs already present around the table that took up much of the interior. "Ambassador Thera Jameson of the Howle Island Institute," he announced.

"Thank you, Major Lennox," Prime said, his deep voice vibrating all around them despite the pleasant tone.

He saluted and left, more than mildly curious at what was going to be discussed that he _didn't_ have clearance for.

Thera took the moment to contemplate the four giant robots sitting at the table. Optimus Prime, Jazz and Ratchet were there, both according to her briefing and the Major. The fourth, a medium-sized white one with black markings and decidedly police-like markings, was another high-ranking officer; Prowl, if her briefing was correct.

"Welcome to Autobot City, Ambassador Jameson," Prime greeted her warmly when the door had shut behind the Major, leaving her the only human in the room. "Please join us," he motioned to the corner of the table nearest her.

Before she could even contemplate what he meant, much less ask, it registered that said corner was a platform lift.

"Thank you, Optimus Prime," she inclined her head to him respectfully, having to trust that a decade allied with the US military had taught them at least the intentions of basic American body language, even if it didn't match their own. She stepped onto the platform and took a brief moment to appreciate the smooth ride to the giant-sized table's surface.

As she came even, she realized it was a slightly more complex construction. There was a section, almost a table on top of the table, on her side, complete with chair, and it would put her much closer to eye level with her hosts. At least as even as the two shorter ones were to Prime. It wasn't quite as even as she liked, but then with the shortest robot - Jazz - being about half the height of the tallest - Prime - that just wasn't possible.

"Please sit, Ambassador Jameson," Prime rumbled pleasantly. "I am Optimus Prime, the leader of the Autobots," he introduced himself formally. "This is Jazz, my First Lieutenant and Chief of Intelligence," he indicated the small, relatively lithe silver robot to his right that watched her from behind a visor but had a ready smile that seemed quite genuine. "Prowl is my Lieutenant and Chief of Security Forces," he indicated the white robot to his left. "And Ratchet is our Chief Medical Officer," he motioned to the neon yellow one between her and Jazz.

"It is a pleasure to meet all of you," Thera said with polite warmth and absolute honesty. It was beyond a pleasure; it was her life's goal and she'd fulfilled it before her third decade was over. "I hope it is the first of many in a strong alliance."

"A worthy goal," Prime agreed. "Perhaps you can begin by telling us of the Howle Island Institute you represent?"

Thera smiled warmly, far more at ease than she had any right to be, but the resonance of this place, these robots with such strong spirits in them, made her want to melt, curl up against their chassis and soak up the warmth that was like nothing native to Gaia yet.

"It is a research facility and organization focused on advancing technology, particularly artificial intelligence, robotics, cybernetics and space travel. While we are not a country, we do maintain independence from all government control," she began easily, the explanation coming to her smoothly after giving it so many times.

"Where does your funding come from?" Prowl asked, his voice as emotionless as anything she'd heard.

It was starling in a very real way.

"Are you all right, Ambassador?" Ratchet asked before she could even answer Prowl. "Your heart rate has spiked and your chemical balance has shifted sharply."

"I am fine Ratchet" she responded to the CMO first, turning to face who she was speaking to as she always did. "Prowl's voice merely surprised me."

"My voice?" Prowl raised a plate above his optic sensors.

Jazz just about lost it trying not to laugh, then he gave up repressing it when the mood lightened. "Only you, Prowler!" he nearly howled in delight. It earned him a bemused look from Prime and a menacing scowl from Prowl.

"How many times do I have to tell you? My designation is Prowl," he said firmly.

Thera smiled at the relaxed interaction. "If it is acceptable to you, I would like to present the purpose for my presence."

"Of course," Prime nodded to her, watching carefully as she slid a flash drive into the port in her table. The list of contents, a dozen pictures, were immediately sent to all four mechs.

"These are pictures of one of the Institute's secondary projects," she told them as the first image appeared on the table's surface.

All four Autobots stiffened sharply at the sight of one of their own half disassembled and with obvious heavy battle damage. While it looked like some effort had been made to make him look mostly intact, it didn't cut it for those who'd seen too much battle damage in their lives.

"Where is he?" Ratchet found his voice first, and it was the low rumble of deadly warning when it came out.

"At the Institute," Thera answered calmly, only mildly surprised at the extreme reaction. Or at least she felt it was extreme. "As far as we can tell, he is still alive," she tried to calm the CMO down, sure he was reacting from medical protocols that were demanding he get to a badly damaged patient without delay. "We've been rebuilding it for eighty years. I know the damage looks bad, but it..."

"He," Jazz interrupted her. "His name's Blurr, and he's a mech."

She nodded, filing that away for later clarification. "He is in much better condition than when we found him."

"Eighty years..." Ratchet tried to process that, his attention torn between the pictures that continued to flash across the table and the human femme he was speaking to. "How ... why do you believe he is alive?"

"The internal power supply, both of them, are still functioning, and he sometimes responds to stimulus," she explained, hoping the CMO didn't ask for any more details.

"Why have you shown us this?" Prime stopped the storm that was readying to explode.

Thera drew a deep breath to calm herself. "I am here to ask for a deal. We will return Blurr to you for two things, one of which, his designation, you have already given. The other is an agreement to sit down with the Institute's leaders in formal treaty talks."

Optimus Prime regarded her for a long moment, trying to work out her language and her demands. He would have easily agreed to both conditions without any offer on their side. Yet the language seemed to imply he would require a bribe bordering on a threat to do so. Or could it be that something was being lost in translation as she meant it as a token of good faith. That did make more sense.

As he formulated a reply, she abruptly stiffened when a soft, low frequency vibration came from a device on her person.

::Anger, embarrassment, fear.:: Jazz silently translated the rapid change of her expression before she got herself fully under control with a will that even Prowl respected.

"My apologies, Optimus Prime," she stood and bowed to him. "I really must take this call."

"Of course," he inclined his head in acceptance.

"What takes precedence over this meeting?" Prowl asked as she stood, causing her to stiffen again.

"This," she made a snap decision and flicked her hand to her ear. The speakers imbedded in the table sprang to life with the sounds of crashing metal, breaking glass, shouts in at least two languages and growls and cries of people and animals in pain. "What is Blurr's designation as you pronounce it?" she focused on Prowl.

Too surprised not to respond, he answered her, the clicks and harmonics of Cybertronian language flowing easily from his vocalizer.

Thera took a deep breath and focused inward, her world narrowing to the communications relay she'd been called on.

"Thom, clear out the lab. Security and science. Transfer me to lab three," her voice was strong and even, holding far more authority than she had presented herself with.

::Thank Cockroach!:: an utterly relieved male voice greeted from the new connection.

"Is everyone clear?" she demanded calmly.

::Almost. Almost,:: he sounded nervous and more than a little frightened when another crash echoed in the background. ::What can you do from there?:: the voice was growing close to hysterical again.

"What I do," Thera responded evenly and touched the near-invisible earpiece she wore, causing a HUD display to flash into place in front of her eyes. She took a deep breath and seemed to let go, giving herself over to instinct, or something like it, as flawless Cybertronian flowed from her as smoothly as it did from any native. _"Blurr. Stand down."_ She ordered calmly with just the right amount of authority.

::_Whoareyou? WhereamI?_:: the speed of the voice on the other side was almost enough to fritz Prowl's audio processor.

Thera blinked, her mouth slightly open for a moment as her brain tried to process the far too quick speech in a very alien language. She did before anyone else thought to act however, took a deep breath and spoke as fast as the mech on the other end. _"IamThera. YouareonHowlIsland."_

::_Idon'tknowyou!_:: Blurr all but hissed, interrupting her along with the crash and crackle of electrical systems being damaged echoing over the transmission.

_"YouaresafeBlurr. Standdown. Laydown. Recharge."_ She countered, wincing at another crash and dropped her vocal speed by half. _"Blurr! Iam with OptimusPrime. Iwill bring hismedic asap. You must stop."_

::_Prime?_:: he almost slowed down to normal speed. ::_Primeiswithyou?_:: he sped back up.

_"YesBlurr,"_ she responded at his speed. _"Youaresafe. Helpiscoming."_

There was a fraction of a second's pause, quite a lengthy one for the high-speed mech. ::_Allright whatarethosefleshythings?_::

_"Nativesentientlife. Quadrupeds're wolves. Bigfurrybipedsare crinos. Mostlyfurlessbipedsare humans,"_ she rattled off the names, switching from Cybertronian to English with ease for the things that had no direct translation. _"Lay down. Recharge. A medic is coming,"_ she insisted, her body swaying slightly where she stood.

::_ Allright,_:: Blurr agreed. ::_Havethemlelavemealone._::

_"No one will touch you until I arrive,"_ she promised wearily.

::_Allright. I'llliedownnow,_:: he consented, the sounds around him quieting with the distinctive click and scrape of metal laying down on metal.

_"Thankyou, Blurr,"_ Thera said before switching channels.

:: Whatever you said, it's...::

"He," she interrupted, correcting the man on the other end. "His name is Blurr."

::He's back on the table,:: the man breathed a deep sound of relief.

"And _no one_ is going in that room until I arrive. Understood?" her tone went deadly with more than a vague resemblance to Ratchet.

::Yes Ma'am,:: the response from the other side was suitably frightened.

"Good," Thera said before closing the channel and turned to focus on Ratchet, visibly unsteady on her feet. "Please don't make a liar out of me."

The medic was so focused on her that he blinked his optics in surprise and took a moment to process just what she was asking of him.

"I _am_ going. _You_ need medical attention as well," he pointed out gruffly, literally daring Prime to contradict him. "Your energy reserves were heavily drained by what you just did."

"I'm quite aware of the cost of using my Gifts," Thera told him wearily, her body beginning to tremble when she reached for the upper table top for support. She got both under control quickly though, to everyone but the medic's sensors. "Will you be bringing assistants or warriors?"

"Take the twins with you," Prime ordered.

"Mass for each, Prime?" she turned her attention to him.

"Ratchet weighs 3.4 metric tonnes. Sunstreaker and Sideswipe weigh 2.9 metric tonnes each," Prowl answered instead. "We have a transport that can take them where you need to go."

"Human crewed or one of you?" she asked, her equilibrium beginning to steady.

"It has a human crew," Prowl answered.

"Thank you, but it would be better if we use one of our own," she said politely. "It is much faster for Tangrlo to get here than it would be to clear a human crew to land on Howle Island by a matter of days."

"How long till we leave?" Ratchet interrupted, eager to get to his patient.

"A moment and I'll find out," Thera's attention focused on the near-invisible HUD again.

"I know you're off duty," she said calmly after a moment. "You're the only unloaded transport who can make the distance and weight." She paused. "That will do. Thank you." She closed the channel and looked at Ratchet. "ETA is two hours, expect half that. We can take off as soon as you're on board."

"How long will it take to arrange for the formal alliance talks you are here to request?" Prime asked as Ratchet left the room to prepare his mobile surgical kit.

"Forty eight hours," Thera answered, though she didn't quite manage to suppress her surprise.

::Ratchet, how long do you believe it will take you to repair Blurr?:: He asked.

::Are you _kidding_?:: Ratchet's fury over not being with his patient had already began to bleed over. ::More days than I care to think about. Maybe even First Aid. And Primus only knows what kind of damage they did to him trying to 'repair' him!::

"Would you be agreeable to showing Jazz and Wheeljack around the Institute until then?" Prime asked, hoping that she'd allow the advanced intel those two were uniquely qualified to provide. "Wheeljack is one of my best inventors."

Thera blinked, too surprised to respond for a fraction of a moment. Then she smiled warmly and him and Jazz. "I would be delighted to. The only issue is that we are unprepared for such a visit. Our knowledge of your needs is regretfully absent."

"Not ah problem," Jazz assured her happily. "If ya've got space, we can handle the rest."

"We have space," Thera look at him with something bordering on adoration for a second before becoming professional again. "And any supplies we can provide," she promised before turning to Prime again. "Would you be adverse to setting the meeting for six days from now? It would give the time to convene a full board and prepare a suitable conference room."

"That is agreeable," Prime inclined his head slightly. "It would be simpler to hold the meeting here," he offered. "We are set up for it," he motioned to the table and the less visible but more important aspects of being designed to accommodate what the human facility was not.

He knew simply from her hesitation that whatever secrets were expected to be traded during the meeting, _she_ didn't trust their security to keep the information secret.

"I will make the offer to the board," she promised instead. "As eager as they are to meet you, I do not know if they will accept it."

"I understand," Prime inclined his head slightly.

"Thank you," she nodded in return. "I would like to meet the others who will be coming today."

"I'll intraduce ya," Jazz offered, already standing up and offering his hand to the woman.


	2. Flying Tangrlo Air

_Fandom_: Transformers Bayverse/World of Darkness  
_Pairing_: Jazz/Prowl, Sunstreaker/Sideswipe, Ratchet/Ironhide  
_Rating_: PG-13  
_Codes_: Supernatural, Slash, Twincest  
Summary: The flight to Howle Island is an eventful one for the mechs, and pretty much what Thera expected.

* * *

**Walking with Glass 2: Flying Tangrlo Air**

* * *

Major Lennox stood slightly out of the way at the edge of the tarmac, watching Diplomat Jameson watch the Autobots while they watched the sky to the north of the base. Her arms were crossed, her stance tense and her expression anything but pleased under the effort to look calm. There was every chance that only Ratchet, and quite probably Jazz, could tell she was seriously wound up.

Ratchet wasn't paying attention to the humans though as he fidgeted, trying not to stalk around as he waited for the transport. He seemed to be distracting himself by talking non-stop to First Aid in the whirring, mechanical language of their kind. From what Lennox could translate of it, it was notes on how to handle the med bay while the CMO was gone. Wheeljack seemed to be trying to settle the medic down.

Ironhide was amusing himself watching Sunstreaker and Sideswipe wrestling to pass the time. Whether it was the activity or something else, they seemed to be the focus of Prime and the diplomat's attention as well.

Jazz's optics were mildly glazed, like he was doing a massive information download, but Lennox suspected it had more to do with the fact Prowl was allowing full body contact in public; Jazz had pressed his entire back against the larger mech's chest and hadn't been removed. Come to think of it, Lennox was sure this was more affectionate he'd _ever_ seen the stoic tactician. The most demonstrative would have been when he'd arrived five years ago to find the bond-mate he'd thought was dead was very much alive. Jazz had all but jumped him at the landing site and no one, not even Prowl himself, had seen fit to stop it. But that was a mindless act somewhere between spark-searing desperation and universe-shattering relief. This was the intentional affection of a fully coherent mind. Now the slow, light strokes along Jazz's shoulder armor were minor as Cybertronian gestures of affection went, but for Prowl, it amounted to groping in public and Jazz was enjoying it far too much to care about anything else.

The Major winced as his mind promptly supplied all of the other intimate moments he'd witnessed in the last decade even as he took a moment to be amused that he was even starting to _think_ in their terms. Trying to explain the concept of TMI and private vs. public appropriate activities had proven more embarrassing than the displays, and had only received sporadic compliance. The more notorious couples, primarily the Lamborghini twins and the two most feared bots on base, Ironhide and Ratchet, as well as the newly landed, were still doing everything in far too public of places.

On the up side, most of the human population had learned to deal with these random moments of robot porn, whether it was studiously pretending they didn't see it as they vacated the location post haste or by stopping to watch or film. It made orientation for new transfers unique, to say the least.

"What did I miss?" Ambassador Jameson asked quietly.

"Um, nothing, ma'am," Lennox blinked. "I was just remembering some stranger moments on base."

"Prompted by?" she asked, then smiled when she followed the way his gaze flicked over to Jazz and Prowl. "Ah, yes. They are quite sweet. I take it not all couples are so discreet?"

"No," he chuckled weakly, wondering how she'd worked out the pair were a pair. He could see it because of extended contact and a few blunt questions over the years. "Sunny and Sides are two of the worst," he nodded towards the wrestling mechs.

"I'm sure most of Howle's population will be thrilled," she said dryly.

The faint whine of multiple powerful engines drew his attention upwards.

"That would be Tangrlo," Thera said absently as the dot in the air became a plane, then identifiable as a C-17 Globemaster in civilian white with a howling wolf tribal tattoo logo near it's tail. "Ten minutes later than I expected. There must have been quite a headwind."

The group watched the transport land, come to a rolling stop and turn to roll up to them, its aft end open to expose the wide, deep cargo bay. At almost the same moment a small black dot darted over the base, flipped on it's tail and came around, slowing down significantly.

"Relax Major, Ironhide," Thera said with authority. "I know this particular disruption," she said as she activated her comm. "Jauna, I'm not going to ask and you had better not tell. Just yet your tail back where it belongs," she sighed in familiar frustration.

::Aw, aren'ya goina introduce me to'm or do I have'ta land?:: the male sounded quite cheerful as the small, sleek black fighter slowed to just above stall speed and flipped upside down to make a pass only a few meters above Prime's reach. The mechs could all see the pilot now, a dark haired, lightly tanned man in his early twenties, who waved at them as he passed.

Thera muttered to herself before responding. "Optimus Prime; blue with flames. Jazz; silver, and yes."

::Hu?::

"I know you better than your alpha does. Get used to it; it's my job," she responded evenly. "Prowl; white. Ratchet; neon yellow. Ironhide; black. Sideswipe; silver. Sunstreaker; gold."

She turned her attention to the mechs. "Jazz, Wheeljack, back in first. Then the Twins, then Ratchet so he's first out when we land," she ordered calmly, sparing a lingering look and soft smile when she caught Jazz claim Prowl's derma in a kiss that left the larger mech too stunned to react when his mate stepped away and transformed to join Wheeljack on the transport.

"Jauna, get that bird back where she belongs," she ordered evenly. "And Jauna ... if I hear about this from Estrasa _or_ SECAF, you'll be spending your next six rotations in Siberia with the Silvers. Got it?"

::You need to relax,:: the pilot chided her before darting upwards and west.

"Who was that idiot?" Ironhide demanded with a grumble.

"One of my protégés, regretfully," she said as Sunstreaker and Sideswipe backed on board to settle in the middle of the cargo bay. "He has a brilliant mind for negotiation, but is a bit too interested in instant gratification when outside a conference room."

"In other words, he's young," Ironhide snorted from his vents before talking a step forward to grip Ratchet's shoulder and exchange a brief look with the medic.

Ratchet then transformed and backed into the transport, ready to be the first to hit the ground rolling at their destination.

"Exactly," Thera gave him a small smile and walked up the ramp to join the five mechs traveling with her. When the ramp had closed and locked into place and they had begun rolling, she raised her voice and looked upwards with a stern expression. "We are not going to have any problems, will we?"

"Those two...." a deep, angry rumble came from all around, setting the mechs on edge.

Jazz instantly recognized it as the same voice that had spoken to her when she'd called Tangrlo in.

Their transport was sentient.

And apparently not terribly happy about his cargo.

"Are _not_ Wyrm-spawn," Thera said with the firm authority that reminded every Autobot of Prime as his most determined. "No more than any young Ahroun birthed on the battlefield."

~Did one of them just insult us?~ Sunstreaker asked his brother across their twin-bond as they felt the plane lift off.

~I think so, but I'm not sure who,~ Sideswipe replied warily. ~Neither make any sense.~

"Thera," Jazz interrupted. "What are Wyrm and Ahroun?"

She turned to face him, her body relaxed. "One of the Triat, the three infinitely powerful spirits that comprise and influence the Tellurian; all of reality, physical and otherwise. The Wyrm is the Destroyer. The Weaver is the Order-bringer. The Wyld is Chaos. We are not on very good terms with the Wyrm and it's minions. Ahroun are those born under the full moon. They are not the most subtle of creatures, but they are the best warriors."

"That sounds like the Twins," Jazz chuckled. "But nothing like that, or those words, appeared in any of my research," he added curiously.

"Then we're doing our job," she gave him a pleased look. "By your research, and discounting the last half hour, would you say humans are the only sentient race on this world?"

She could all but feel the five vehicles look at each other, exchanging thoughts.

"I'd hav'ta say so," Jazz answered after a moment. "Though I've gathered that's not true."

Another smile greeted him; she seemed almost preen in pleasure. "No. There are, officially, nineteen sentient physical species native or naturalized to this world. In practicality, there are twenty-nine I'm aware of. Humans are the youngest and most visible of them."

"Twenty-nine..." Jazz repeated, his processors reeling with the implications if she was telling the truth.

"Twenty-nine species?" Ratchet echoed, then his voice exploded. "How the _frag_ do that many species remain secret?"

"Calm down," Tangrlo demanded with a wiggle of his wings that threatened to throw everyone off balance.

"You fly," Thera's voice turned sharp with a glare towards the empty cockpit. "Don't talk. Don't wiggle."

"How do so many hide from the dominant one?" Jazz asked.

Thera's voice was smooth and calm when she addressed the mechs again. "For the most part, it's because they are shape-shifters, weres. Others can or do look human but are not, the rest simply hide from the humans," she explained. "Humans can be remarkably content to see only what they expect to see," she motioned to their vehicle forms. "Like you, we hide in plain sight."

There was a long silence before Jazz spoke.

"So ... if ya aren't human, what are ya?"

"We call ourselves Garou. What modern Americans call a werewolf," she said calmly, walking between and around the five vehicles to be near each one for a time as she continued to speak. "One of a group of related species called Bête, the shifting breeds, who comprise the majority of the other sentient physical species on this world. Others include Vampires, Mummies, Magi, Fae and Barmanou.

"Vampires, Mummies and Magi were humans, but are no longer. They still look human, for the most part. Vampires are extremely dangerous, Mummies are neutral for the most part and Magi vary as much as the humans they draw their numbers from.

"Fae or Changelings can look human and are extremely rare these days. They are almost pure energy and handle the current environment poorly.

"Baranou are near-humans. We only acknowledge two species, greater and lesser, but they go by dozens of regional names. Yeti, Bigfoot and Sasquatch are the best known in the West and are all Greater Baranou. Lesser Baranou include Agogwe, Hobbit and Aluxes. They are not the most agreeable of creatures to try and interact with."

"Trippy," Jazz murmured.

"So ... what other creatures have weres?" Sunstreaker asked with real curiosity after delving into the internet.

"Yeah, can you control yourself with a full moon?" Sideswipe picked up. "What kind of wolf do you turn into? Do you turn into a monster too?"

Thera laughed in good humor and patted Sideswipe's hood, much to Jazz's relief.

"Yes, Bête have as much control over our transformations and ourselves as I have gathered you do," pleasant amusement laced every line of her smoothly moving body and tone. "Other animal types include felines, coyote, fox, rat, crocodile, bear, raven, hyena, sharks and spiders."

"Spiders?" Ratchet prompted, trying to wrap his processors around that idea. The size difference with a human, it was greater than the difference between Prime and a youngling human, if not greater.

"Yes, spiders," a faint ripple passed across Thera's skin. "They are a most ... unusual ... type of Bête. Not actually related to the rest of us as far as anyone has worked out."

"They make you uncomfortable," Ratchet observed.

"That is one way to put it," she consented without issue.

"Diplomat." Tangrlo spoke up. "Storm ahead. No avoiding it."

She nodded. "Jazz, Ratchet, if you would be so kind as to inform your bondmates that you are fine and we are simply entering a dead zone, I would appreciate it greatly."

"What makes ya think we can?" Jazz asked suddenly before Ratchet could grumble and agree.

She tipped her head slightly, giving him a bemused look. "A well-educated guess. I can see the soul-link between you and Prowl, between Ratchet and Ironhide and between Sunstreaker and Sideswipe when I look the right way. Such a connection almost always allows some level of communication."

Engines revved all around her, from surprised to threatening.

"There is far more to the world that most people see," she continued more quietly, her voice and touch soothing, even to the twins.

~Prowl ... it's all good if we fall off the grid or something,~ Jazz sent along their bond. ~Some kind of storm.~

~Understood,~ he responded, unsettling his mate even more when he didn't even try to temper his concern.

~What about this group has to so worked up?~ Jazz all but tuned out his environment to focus on his bonded.

~It is not that,~ Prowl responded more cautiously than usual. ~It is nothing logical.~

~You are allowed to have emotions, Prowler,~ he sent all his love and adoration over their bond. ~It's sweet that you worry about me.~

A soft echo of the love, adoration and awe came back with an intensity that was all Prowl. ~I know. But it should be me. I'm larger, more heavily armored and did not almost die less than two metacycles ago.~

~Primus gave us a gift, love. Don't question the details, especially not now.~ Jazz purred, crooning in his mind to sooth his distant mate. ~I know it's killing you not to be close enough to protect me, Prowler. We can't risk both of us on a first contact, especially the way this one's going. Prime has to have one of us close.~

~What _aren't_ you telling me,~ Prowl was suddenly focused.

~I'll explain when I can without crash'n your logic chip,~ Jazz promised. ~It's not immediately dangerous.~

There was an uncomfortable acceptance and silence on the other side for too long a moment.

~Love, I'll be fine. He'll be fine,~ Jazz tried to send enough certainty to console his mate before appealing to his logic center. ~Ratchet's here. The Twins are here. I'm as safe as I could be anywhere but on base.~

~... I know,~ Prowl sighed. ~Just ... just leave the bond wide open? I ... don't know if I can stand to not be certain at all times.~

~Sure thing, love,~ Jazz willingly agreed. "That is typically true," he responded to Thera without enough lag to raise any suspicions.

Ratchet was the first to pick up on the sub-vocal hum she was producing. It resonated almost imperceptibly with their circuits and spark in a most calming way.

"How are you doing that?" he asked quietly.

"It is a Gift called Unicorn's Song," she answered smoothly as she walked up to him and slid her fingers gently along his entire side as she passed. "It soothes the temper, eases some pains and encourages the body to relax in a pleasant way. It is something of a reflex for me to invoke when tempers flare around me."

"A very useful skill," Ratchet hummed in a mixture of interest and mild jealousy. "Can you teach me?"

Thera smiled and patted his frame where hood met cab. "I can not, but if the board agrees, I can introduce you to one who can."

"Thanks," he did manage to sound more grateful than annoyed. "Why can't you?"

She paused on her way to Sunstreaker's side and turned back towards him. "Because Gifts, skills of this type, can't be passed on by someone who only knows them. They must be taught by one who has mastered their nature fully. While I am skilled with the Unicorn's Song, I am not a full master of it."

"And it is a secret of your kind," Ratchet said with calm certainty. "You would need permission even if you knew it well enough."

"Unless I wish to be stripped of my rank and status," she inclined her head slightly.

"So ... is everybody going to need to be convinced we aren't Wyrm-spawn by your stern look and pretty words?" Sideswipe asked, unable to really mount any anger, but he managed a displeased tone anyway.

"Until word gets around, yes," Thera nodded as she walked between the Twins and caressed Sideswipe's hood lightly, causing his engine to purr in pleasure. "It won't take long. We do understand _and appreciate_ the kind of ruthless made-for-war type you are," she said as she turned to Sunstreaker and brushed her hand along his hood without quite touching him. "It is unsettling to most and threatening to other warriors until everyone works out where you fall in the rank structure."

"Been there, know that," Sunstreaker grumbled, but there was something in his voice that wasn't as upset as he normally was.

"Once they get over that, you can expect a _lot_ of interest," she continued. "All of you will, but by our standards," she shifted to address the Twins again. "You two have by far the most attractive mech forms."

The pair preened, their engines rumbling with a deep purr at her words and the honesty they were spoken with.

"That does mean," she continued on as they all felt the decent beginning in earnest. "That you will bear the brunt of attention that is not field-specific. From the curious to those inclined to try and court you."

"Court...." the word echoed from several vocal processors, inflections ranging from disbelief to shock to bewilderment.

"Try to remember you are about to land on an island full of technophiles with more than a passing familiarity with sentient machines and the idea that other species make acceptable mates," she smiled and chuckled softly, then turned serious. "Whether it's technical questions or other advances, if anyone does not accept 'no' for an answer, tell me. Excitement and fascination are not excuses for unacceptable behavior. Unacceptable behavior," she glared rather pointedly at the Twins again. "Is not an excuse for violence. There isn't a warrior on the island that is not willing to try and face you down to protect others."

"We get it," Sideswipe said with a bit of a grumble. "Your comm always active?"

"Always," she nodded firmly. "I am here to protect you as much as my own."

"How can you do that?" Ratchet asked as ancient memories of before he was the grumpy, grizzled, ratchet-throwing, much-feared Autobot CMO coming to the fore more fully as it truly sank in that his Prime had once more called on him to be a diplomat to back Jazz up.

Thera turned towards him and smiled warmly. "It is my job. My title is diplomat, but my specialization is first contact and alliance building. Both require a willingness to stand up and protect outsiders from us as much as protecting us from outsiders. Yes, if there is no solution, I will side with my own people. Until then, you are under my protection and even the adolescent Ahroun will avoid my ire."

"If they're your best warriors, why would they be afraid of you?" Sunstreaker didn't hide the sneer in his voice, though it didn't last long as she stepped back towards him.

She snickered and patted his hood near the driver's side mirror. "Generally for the same reason you fear Ratchet. The few I can't put on their back I can make their lives far more miserable than is worth it."

"Then why aren't _you_ a warrior?" Sideswipe sounded more frustrated than demanding, but it was still clear he was not happy.

"Because I am Philodox, a mediator by nature and training. But just like a good battlefield-healer, I do have to be able to force compliance in uncooperative 'patients' by wile, Gift or force if it comes down to it. Make no mistake, Sideswipe," she locked him with a look. "There isn't a Garou ... a _Bête_ ... that isn't a walking killing machine of flesh and blood. We are predators born and killers to the last. Some are just more dedicated to that focus than others."

"So ... what's this creature you can turn into, this flesh and blood killing machine?" Sunstreaker asked with curiosity mixed with unease.

"It is called the Crinos," Thera said calmly. Standing between the Twins in the center of the cargo bay where she was the most visible, her form began to change.

"By the Allspark," Ratchet breathed in complete incomprehension as the human grew in height, the short, sparse hairs of her body lengthening, thickening and growing in number ... but most of what got him was the incredible increase in mass by the time she stood, a much larger, non-sexually dimorphic biped canine complete with tail, digitigrade stance and enough power radiating off her to make the Twins balk.

"How do you _do_ that?" Wheeljack managed first, all too fascinated by the impossible change in size and mass between the two forms.

She shifted back, the transformation to normally dressed human female faster and smoother before she looked towards him. "It is natural to my kind," she said simply. "It is not understood much more than that."

"Y'r clothes...." Jazz prompted.

"The results of the Rite of Talisman Binding," she answered easily, then gave him a gentle smile. "I do generally try to keep the mystic side of things to a minimum at first. If one has difficulty dealing with changes in mass and temperament, the rest rarely goes over at all."

There was a long moment before anyone spoke as they assessed the statement and it's implications.

"I think I understand," Jazz finally said. "Cover one bit of weirdness at a time instead of dumping it all on somebody at once."

"That is exactly it," she gave him a pleased smile and relaxed a fraction.

"Touchdown in forty-five seconds," Tangrlo announced. "Ground crews are in place."

"Good," Thera nodded and walked back to Ratchet to place a firm hand on his front grill to steady herself for the jolt.


	3. Howle Island Touchdown

_Fandom_: Transformers Bayverse/World of Darkness  
_Pairing_: Jazz/Prowl  
_Rating_: PG-13  
_Codes_: Supernatural, Slash, Cybertronian Reproduction  
_Summary_: When Tangrlo lands, there is the expected excitement, but it's what happens when Thera corners Jazz alone that sets the feel for the entire visit.

* * *

**Walking with Glass 3: Howle Island Touchdown**

* * *

"Just follow the black and white car with the lights," Thera told Ratchet as she let go of his grill after touchdown and walked towards the edge of the cargo bay door where she'd be readily visible when it opened. "Security will show you to lab three where Blurr is," she pronounced his name in respectably good Cybertronian. "If you need anything, ask for it. We'll provide or make a run to your base for it. Sunstreaker, Sideswipe," again the names were in Cybertronian as she looked at the silver and gold pair revving their engines, "stay close to Ratchet, please. If you want to stretch out, just let me know first."

"All right," Sideswipe agreed, if somewhat reluctantly. "Does that mean Hatchet can't kick us out?"

The Hummer rumbled a warning to the pair before she could answer.

"He can do anything he pleases," Thera chuckled. "Just let me know before you go far."

::That means before you go more than five lengths from the lab in any direction,:: Jazz clarified firmly.

"Got it," Sunstreaker responded more to Jazz than her as they felt the rolling stop end.

Ratchet was already rolling forward when the ramp touched tarmac, giving those inside their first view inside, and the mechs visual confirmation of what their sensors told them.

Four vehicles, all highly advanced and heavily armored for Earth but not Cybertronian drone advanced, three humans near the ramp and a significant crowd of three score beyond them.

One of the vehicles moved, it's police lights flashing.

"Ratchet, follow us!" The passenger leaned out the window and shouted in English.

Thera held very still as the neon yellow rescue Hummer rumbled passed, followed by two 2018 Lamborghini Murciélago prototypes. A second security vehicle, it's lights also flashing, pulled out to bring up the rear as they raced out of sight.

Thera looked back towards the silver Porsche prototype and the white 2015 Lancia Delta with red and green racing stripes and motioned them forward.

::Ya think they're excited to see us?:: Jazz couldn't help the amazement that mixed into his tight-beam transmission to Wheeljack as they rolled out of the C-17 and into the warm summer light of the northern equatorial zone and got an optic full of the gathering.

::Not a trace of fear,:: Wheeljack added with a bit of surprise after they transformed.

::Yeah, nice change,:: he agreed as they walked up to the dignitaries. ::Ya feel that?::

::Yes, though I can't trace it. Medical scan, or an engineering one.:: Wheeljack agreed.

"Jazz, Wheeljack, the leaders of Howle Island," Thera spoke politely and with evident pride.

The tanned, dark-haired female stepped forward first, her attention primarily on Jazz, though she addressed them both in impeccable Cybertronian except for the local names, which came out in English. "Welcome to Howle Island Jazz and Wheeljack of the Autobots. I am Suncrest WyFy, the Head of Research and Development and this facility."

::I don't think she _knows_ what she's saying,:: Jazz commented privately to Wheeljack.

"Psitrek, our lead tactician," she continued in careful Cybertronian as she motioned to her left to a blond, dark-skinned Hispanic male of medium build with the most out-of-place piercing blue eyes and a relaxed, friendly manner. "Terry MacLoud is our Chief of Security," he motioned to the muscular Native American, his long raven-black hair pulled into a ponytail, a light tan suit designed for mobility and dark shades hiding his eyes. "You are our guests. If there is anything you wish, ask Thera," she motioned to the diplomat, "or myself."

::I gave her the translation,:: Thera's voice came over both their comms. ::English would be most appreciated when you reply.::

::Understood,:: both mechs responded on the same frequency.

"It is our pleasure to be here, Suncrest WyFy," Jazz kept his accent and use of slang under tight control and bowed politely to her and the two males. "We are grateful that you contacted us about our kin and allowed this visit."

"Kin is very important, especially for a race with few members," Suncrest smiled warmly at him. "Please come, Thera and I will show you to the guest quarters we prepared for you."

::Do not hesitate to tell me about modifications you wish. They had less than three hours to set it up,:: Thera added silently.

::We will,:: Jazz promised, mostly to make her feel better. He was quite sure, even on such short notice, that the accommodations would be acceptable for a few days.

~You weren't carrying those times,~ Prowl's spark was suddenly brushing against his with moderate concern.

~Love, I doubt I'll be here for more than a couple orn, three tops,~ he reminded his bonded as he got more and more curious what was bothering him so much. ~_Ratchet_ was fine with me coming, it can't be that dangerous for either of us.~

~I know,~ Prowl sighed softly with an emotional wave of apology and adoration. It was something Jazz had learned to understand long ago: Prowl's emotions had overridden everything and the mech had little enough experience with them than he didn't know how to moderate them yet.

Jazz only paid half attention through the short tour of their quarters - one room for all five of them, but with berths for six - and the facilities. It was only after Suncrest had excused herself and Wheeljack had gone to investigate their quarters a bit better that he realized that Thera hadn't stopped staring at him the entire time.

"Are you sure you are all right?" she asked him quietly, clearly intending to keep it between them.

"Very sure," Jazz assured her, only to see her concern turn to a confused frown. "Why?" he prompted, hoping she'd explain whatever she thought she saw.

"You have a parasite attached to your spirit," she tried to find the right words even as she tapped her chest to indicate where his spark was. "There is a relatively small creature feeding off your life-energy."

He could only stare at her for a long, shocked moment before his processors kicked into gear when Prowl nudged at his spark in concern.

"Thank you for your concern, but that is not a parasite. It is very much wanted," he assured her and his bonded at the same time.

"Will you tell me what it is then? None of the others have one," she looked at him curiously and he felt the tingle of energy ghost over his frame. Not strong enough to be rude, but enough he noticed it.

"That," he hesitated, only to feel a pulse of support from Prowl. "Is one of those things we try not to talk about too early on, like your mystic stuff. I will trust you to take it well," he offered her a vote of confidence that she smiled encouragingly at. "That second life is a new spark, what you would call an unborn child."

It was Thera's turn to blink and scramble to organize her thoughts. It only took a few seconds for her demeanor to shift from that to delighted excitement. "Parthenogenesis or with a partner?" she asked eagerly, delight pouring off her in waves he could _feel_ wash over him.

"With my bonded," Jazz smiled down at her, relieved more than he'd ever admit as he sat down to be more on optic level with her. "You don't seem too shocked."

A brilliant smile looked up at him. "Any spirit can make a new spirit, whether it's in a body or not. Do Ratchet and your bonded know?"

"Yes," Jazz's smile softened a bit in memory of that moment.

"So how long before you deliver?" Thera asked, all but bubbling in excitement. Her well-trained diplomatic manner fading at the joyful news.

"If our timekeeping conversions are correct, approximately one hundred and sixty three local years," he said, causing her to blink in surprise. "That is only two vorn, the local year, on our homeworld."

"How long have you been carrying already?" she asked, trying not to think about being pregnant that long, even if she had the millions of years these beings did.

"Three local years, half a metacycle," Jazz supplied, watching her think through the math. "The body does not form inside me, only the spark," he added, sure that was her next question given how earth species reproduced.

Thera nodded, thoughtful and happy. "I'm still surprised they let you come. It can't be easy on your bonded."

"No, it isn't," he admitted, sending another assurance of his health and safety over the bond as she watched, thought and gently probed with whatever her kind used to do such things. It didn't really feel like technology, but it didn't _not_ feel like it either.

"Would you like me to explain that it is simply a peculiarity, something you know about and not to worry about it?" she offered.

It didn't take any of his thousands of vorns of experience to know, without a single doubt, that covering up his condition was about the last thing she wanted to do, but she would do it if he asked her to.

He thought about it, really thought, his bond wide open so he knew that Prowl was thinking too. He waited quietly for the tactician to make his recommendations.

~Don't over it up,~ Prowl eventually told him. ~There is a ninety-two percent probability that this will garner a favorable response in general. There is a sixty-nine percent probability that you will receive preferential treatment from them.~

~Going with the odds then,~ Jazz grinned and wrapped the other spark in a blanket of affection before meeting Thera's gaze. "No, Prowl agrees. If it comes up, we tell the truth, just like I told you now."

He watched in amused appreciation of the universal joy of new life that lit up her face.

"Just don't be surprised if you find yourself on the receiving end of a baby shower, a century and a half early or not," she grinned. "New life is still a big deal for us, especially when it's a rare new life."

Jazz chuckled at her exuberance; so different from the diplomat persona she displayed most of the time. He suspected this was closer to her real self, this open excitement from one of offspring-bearing potential to one who was actually carrying. "I'm not making a secret, but I'm not making a big deal either," he cautioned her. "Too much excitement over this could make Prime change his mind about letting me off base until I'm not carrying anymore."

"That would be a shame," she nodded, still excited but muting it out of respect for the potential consequences. "Still, perhaps a small celebration in a couple days would be accepted?"

"I'm sure I can swing that," he didn't hide his grin. "I am well-known as a party mech after all."

"Good," Thera grinned back before her professional persona slid into place. "I will see about clearing a NEST transport crew so your bonded can join if he wishes," she paused and considered him. "Is it appropriate to use gender designations for your kind?"

"We do not have gender the way you understand it, so it is not inherent in our language to describe ourselves. However it is far easier to interact as people with a sexually dimorphic species if we identify as such," he explained far more than they usually did, but he was speaking with someone who clearly understood far more than most and craved to know more.

Thera nodded thoughtfully. "Can all members of your kind carry new life?"

Jazz smiled, relaxing into the conversation. "Technically, yes. Which bonded will carry can be difficult to determine. However it will generally be the larger, more heavily armored one to better protect the new spark."

"Which makes you being a carrier even more of a surprise," she said with just enough question in her tone to invite a correction.

"A very, very big surprise," Jazz chuckled. "Prowl's always been the carrier before, and he is none too happy that I am this time. He's far too good at calculating the odds of something going horribly wrong, and anything above absolute zero sends him into fits."

It earned an amused chuckle from his companion. "I get the same reaction when I refuse to stop doing my job just because I'm pregnant. It's only nine months for us, but if the pups aren't at risk I see no reason to hole up in a den. I'd be wary of going to a front line battle, but that's not what either of us specialize as."

"Exactly," Jazz grinned, delighted at having his feelings expressed in such a different way. "How many young do you have?" he asked, eager to learn more about her and the parts of culture that were often difficult to learn about.

"Five in three pregnancies," she smiled warmly thinking about them. "My second bred true and is shaping up to be a fine Ahroun alpha. The first a fine hacker and monkeywrencher. My two youngest are strong lupus and have bred well."

Jazz cocked his head and watched her watch him try and work out what she'd just said.

"Okay," he began a bit slowly. "I believe I understood the words, however that does rate an explanation anyway."

"Bête can breed with humans and their animal type," she gave the simple explanation. "My first two children were with a human, the third pregnancy produced two pups with a wolf. To bred true means to be a shapeshifter like I am."

"Then not all your children are like you?" he raised an optic ridge behind his visor.

"No, it's a highly recessive gene," she shook her head slightly. "They could have children that are Garou, even if they are not."

"Fascinating," Jazz murmured as he tried to make that work with his knowledge of genetics. "Are the odds better if you mate with another Garou?"

He tried not to react when she jerked and shuddered before collecting herself.

"Yes, it does produce a Garou," she said quietly. "It also produces a sterile pup with severe disabilities. They're called metis and are thankfully rare these days thanks to contraceptives, even among those who take another Garou as a lover."

"Which, I would surmise, is still strongly frowned upon," Jazz followed the social logic.

"Very strongly," she inclined her head. "Some tribes are more tolerant than others, but they are always creatures to pity."

He resisted the urge to offer help. He was sure Cybertronian technology could cure any affliction inbreeding could cause. They weren't at that level of alliance yet, so he nodded in understanding. "Such are the hazards of sexual reproduction," he said instead.

"Too true," she agreed. "Are any of your children on Earth?" she asked with polite curiosity.

"No," Jazz spoke softly as old pain rose up to swallow him briefly. "No, Riot and Whisper were both casualties of the war."

"I'm sorry," Thera said honestly before falling silent to allow him to grieve and recover with his bonded.


End file.
